"Sudan is not really a country at all, but many.
A composite layers, like a genetic fingerprint of memories that were once fluid, but have since crystallized out from the crucible of possibility"
Jamal Mahjoub, a Sudanese novelist
“I thought about life, about my life, the embarrassments, the little coincidences, the shadows of alarm clocks on bedside tables, I thought about my small victories and everything I’d seen destroyed. I’d swum through mink coats on my parents’ bed while they hosted downstairs, I’d lost the only person with whom I could have spent my only life, I’d left behind a thousand tonnes of marble from which I could have released sculptures, I could have released myself from the marble of myself, I’d experienced joy, but not nearly enough, could there be enough? The end of suffering does not justify the suffering…” — Jonathan Safran Foer
I was slapped across the face yesterday. The ever so surprising “kataha” or sandstorm slapped me as harshly as a wife-beater. I ran from my cousin’s car to my house hoping to get there before it hits me. It out-smarted me and as I was trying to open the door, it hit me with full-force.
I stood there, dumb-founded, wondering why this country is so evil. The next day as I was heading to work, it was so humid; I started thinking about shaving my hair.
Sudan’s weather is cruel, it’s like a mean high school bully ( you are beaten, humiliated and you go home hungry after you were forced to surrender your lunch)
Why am I ranting about the weather?
I just wanted to point out that this kind of weather stifles creativity. It suffocates your mind and your heart and pushes you towards stagnation.
On Thursday, I stayed on campus after my classes. Our auditorium was turned into a cinema hall and we had the chance to watch all the new movies from Hollywood for free.
Sometimes, our conversations shifted and we talked about the real world. In a few years, we would be graduates, getting our MA’s and getting real jobs. We talked about graduation; we claimed to be ready to graduate.
I graduated and it hit me.
University didn’t prepare me for the real world. I’m still shocked, dumb-founded. I still can’t wrap my head around the idea. Getting a job seems like a mystery.
Once upon a time, in the comfort of AUC, we were told we were special. Our parents paid large amounts of money for us to receive quality education. We speak good English and we have a number of extra-curricular activities to brag about. When we graduate, we will get a job in the blink of an eye. Oh how I miss university! The feeling of being unique, well-educated and privileged. The feeling that nothing is out of our reach. You just have to take a deep breath and reach for it.
As I sit at my desk in Khartoum two. I reminisce about flavored lattes and an overpriced twix tart. I can smell onions as I climb the stairs to my office ( Sudanese people ate the heaviest breakfast in the world at 1 pm) and I start thinking to myself: maybe this is how the real world smells, different, but at times, challenging.